


you and me and the end of the world

by meowcosm



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Comfort Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gentle Kissing, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Overstimulation, Panic Attacks, Safewords, Tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:29:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26961427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meowcosm/pseuds/meowcosm
Summary: The world collapses, gently, in Ashe's hands.For Kinktober 2020.
Relationships: Cyril/Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12
Collections: kinktober 2020





	you and me and the end of the world

**Author's Note:**

> this fic has a depiction of panic attacks and mental issues- as tagged- so if that's a difficult thing for you, i recommend clicking away.   
> all of the nsfw/sexual content takes place post-panic attack while both participants are consenting and capable.

He wasn’t sure why it had to be then. Why, of all the better days it could have happened on, his body had become formless and his bones had ground into dust on the _one day_ of the month they’d sectioned out to enjoy together. He hadn’t intended it- he never intended it. But he’d been there, hours earlier, shaking on the foot of their bed as if he was being forced to brave Fhirdiad winter winds in his bare skin. Almost _whining_ up at Ashe, all of a sudden a lost and pitiful thing, begging him to not be mad about him ruining everything. 

Ashe- in all his grace- had accepted his apology as if he’d done nothing wrong. And rather than eating in one of the fanciest restaurants in Gaspard City- one of Ashe’s favourites- they’d sat there for an hour, Ashe holding him until every tear had fallen from his eyes and every gasp had wrought its way up from his lungs. 

It happened, sometimes. Cyril found that to be a hard thing to accept. Even when Ashe had spoken gentle words into his ears and reassured him, when he’d spoken to the best specialists on the subject he could find, there was never a part of him that didn’t want his attacks to simply… _vanish_ , as if they’d never been a part of him since adolescence. He remembered a time when they hadn’t happened- back when he was much, much younger, still in the throes of his first introduction to suffering. As counterintuitive as it was, he sometimes wished to go back to that place, to the origin of his pain, if only to hide from its consequences. 

Sometimes, he only wished to be held by Ashe. 

Ashe had given him his space earlier; though only after he’d asked for it. When he arrived back- an hour later, according to the side table clock which blinked in the darkness next to Cyril- he’d been holding a full glass of water and some aspirin. 

“In case you get a headache.” he’d said, shards of warm indoors light flickering through the doorway from the hallway.

Cyril had only beckoned him closer, calling him to sit near him on the feather-down mattress of the bed they shared within the dark caress of their flat. He’d obliged, movements gentle and slow, coming close to Cyril as softly as he could. 

“I promise that it’s alright.” Ashe whispered, handing the glass to Cyril. 

Cyril took a large swig of the water, before placing it gently on the side-table next to him. 

“Is it?” he murmured, hands shaking. “We were goin’ out today.”

“We can go another day.” Ashe sighed, rubbing Cyril’s upper arm in comforting circles. The gentle touch made his husband gasp, and Cyril’s hand soon came to meet Ashe’s where it rested. 

“‘n the reservation we had?” 

“I’ll get another one.” Ashe traced his finger around again, and Cyril shuddered. “It won’t be hard. And- I’m happy to spend time with you at home tonight.”

“It’s not the same.” Cyril whined. 

“We’ll get takeout. Or, if you’d like home-cooking, I can put it all in the oven for a little while.” 

Cyril nudged Ashe with his shoulder; a stubborn whine bursting from him as he did. 

“You’re terrible.”

“Maybe.”

Ashe dipped down to kiss him, soft, on the part of his cheeks that raised and fell each time he breathed in another mouthful of the city-night air. And though Cyril grumbled at the touch, he leaned into it nonetheless. 

“But I’m yours.” he whispered, warm breath dancing on his lips. 

Underneath the white-silk covers, Cyril shifted. Stretching his limbs, he shed the robust blanket and left it lying on the unoccupied side of the bed, the one which Ashe would take should he join him in his rest. His doing so uncovered his body; and Ashe could not help take notice of the fact he had undressed, doffing stuffy formal outerwear in autumnal shades for precious little at all. 

“Do you want me to join you…?” Ashe inquired, tentative and slow, lest Cyril become uncomfortable with his suggestion. 

In his carefulness, he did not notice Cyril’s palm wrapped around his wrist until he finished speaking. It became evident only gradually, the heat of his palm and the possessiveness of his touch radiating slowly upwards til they settled in Ashe’s throat. He ended up having to tug on Ashe’s arm to be noticed, pleading, touch-hungry eyes gazing upwards to meet the gaze of his lover. 

“Of course.” Ashe grinned, and when Cyril shifted to allow him his place on the side of the bed (knocking the sheets to the floor in the process) he sat, and began to strip himself of his own coverings til he was as bare as Cyril beside him. 

“Sorry.” Cyril mumbled, hands folded over his stomach. Ashe leaned over to kiss him softly on the neck; enveloped him with the melting feeling of being _wanted_. 

“You have nothing to apologize for.” he whispered into Cyril’s ear, his lover trembling beneath the weight of the words. “Do you want to do something tonight?”

Ashe felt Cyril’s heart beat rabbit-quick after he spoke, chest rising and falling underneath the hand he had rested on his upper abdomen. 

“Yeah.” Cyril mumbled. Though quiet, he spoke decisively, and with the sort of self-assured candor that always began their lovemaking. “‘Course I do.” 

“What do you want?” 

Cyril hummed, uncertain for the briefest of moments, before nodding to himself, an invisible resolution reached. He freed his right arm from where it had been trapped underneath his own body- the pressure of it providing a much-needed outlet for his stress- and once more placed it on top of Ashe’s resting palm. He mumbled something incomprehensible to himself as he guided Ashe’s hand further downwards, til it was balanced on the cusp between the pit of his stomach and the incipience of his pleasure. Ashe resisted none of it; only watching with great patience to understand best Cyril’s wordless demands. 

“Just my hand?” Ashe inquired, soft. Cyril nodded, eyes already half-lidded from fatigue. 

“Dunno if I have enough energy for much else. I just- I want to get outta my head.”

“Sure.”

A placid grin spread over his face, Ashe’s hand slipped underneath the waistband of Cyril’s underwear. He brought his cock out from the coverings slowly, careful not to disturb the calm stillness beginning to accrue across his lovers’ body. By the time he was exposed, he felt entirely placid underneath Ashe’s restful palm- yet his heart rate had not slowed, and he had not begun to sleep. Indeed, he did not jolt when Ashe’s hand ran down the length of his shaft, nor did he shift and worry when he crowded the corners of his mouth with gentle kisses. 

He did not move, but he trembled, as Ashe teased him with gentle relentlessness; his sincerest attempt to banish all else which concerned him from his mind. 

His gaze fixed on where his hand met the length of brown skin pulled forth in front of him, Ashe began to stroke it gently, lips pursed and eyebrows curved. Cyril’s closed eyes betrayed little, but Ashe sought reassurance not in his gaze but in the affectations of the rest of his body, how his teeth bit down against his tender bottom lip as his hands curled into fists that grabbed the sheets beneath them. He made no sound, but his heartbeat rose and fell as Ashe adjusted the rhythm and pressure of his strokes, and he took his time in finding a sweet spot that neither left Cyril waiting nor took him too brutally. 

“M-more.” Cyril mumbled, and Ashe obeyed. 

The next time he reached the bottom of the shaft, he repositioned his hand so its entire grasp fit neatly around Cyril’s erection. His lover whined at the all-encompassing touch, clearly pleased, nodding as if he could not control his eager demands for Ashe to further the affair. Ashe smiled, gentle, as he heard the sounds, and sought not to argue with the rapid increase of his demands. 

“It feels good, huh?” Ashe whispered, a gentle encouragement. He needed little of the confirmation he asked for- that came in spades with Cyril’s body, which writhed eagerly and tilted backwards as the air around it filled with soft and loving sounds. 

“F-fuck.” was the only response that arose from Cyril’s chest, a clear non-sequitur- not that Ashe minded. He knew how to stop anything they did, at any time he needed, but the words which formed quivering and breathless on his lips were nothing close to _baby’s breath_. Rather, he spoke in flushed and incomprehensible tongues of the pleasure which swelled and convulsed inside of him with each rough thrust, given to him by a lover he could barely see through the darkness.

When he reached the brink of his climax, Ashe did not let up. Rather, he intensified his motions, hand wrapping firmer and thrusting faster than ever, wrenching shattered moans from Cyril as if Ashe had punctured the lung from which they emerged. He began, gradually, to sob into the swaddling caress of Ashe’s arms, voice hot and hoarse as he was brought repeatedly to his finality; surrendering his body and mind to the raw instinct to be held. 

Ashe, once more, had stolen all faculty from him. And he accepted it without any protest, his dearth of consciousness, how the brain-blinding whiteness of it all felt so brutally akin to gazing directly at the suns’ midday light. He came without wavering, one-track mind dragging each part of him through the torn earth to the sound of Ashe’s encouraging croons. 

“Good boy. Take whatever you need, really- I’m here for _you_. You should feel good.”

When the tension inside of him finally released, snapping forcefully against itself, his release spilled messily onto the flat of Ashe’s palm. As soon as he finished, Ashe’s handling became suddenly gentle, though he did not release his grasp. 

“Good work.” he hummed, smearing what had landed on the sheets and on his arm onto his palm. “Did that help…?”

In the gummed-up incoherency of his mind, Cyril found no good answer to Ashe’s question, save for a grunt; non-committal and ragged. He drew closer to Ashe nevertheless, his exhausted body sticking out at strange angles, looking for nothing but to be _held_. His head nuzzled between the sharpness of Ashe’s shoulderblades, taking rest in the crevasse between his shoulder and the soft patches underneath his jaw. 

“Mmh.” Cyril whined, hands roaming to find somewhere on Ashe he could cling to, lest he be washed off to some unknown shore. 

“Yeah?” purred Ashe, and he stretched to draw the covers over both of them so that they almost enveloped Cyril in their darkness. 

“Yeah.”

“I’m glad. We can stay here as long as you want.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!
> 
> i love this pairing, and i post about them p often on my twitter, @meowcosm. comments and kudos appreciated!


End file.
